Thank goodness not all marathons involve running, these heels are killing my feet!
This was a great little venue concert and I can tell you, the cellist made it amazing. Hearing some of the older stuff was like stepping back into the grunge underworld of the early nineties, I kept feeling very nostalgic of a time that in my personal life was reflected so well by this dark rebellion of youth against the squeaky square era of the eighties. Hearing it polished up with a wicked cellist, Bryan Gibson, was nothing short of phenomenal. The transformation of that grungy confusion to right proper artistry was gorgeous and cathartic. Fell on Black Days & Two Drink Minimum were stand out for me. The story of Euphoric Mourning having been changed to Euphoric Morning by the record label so it would fit better on CD cases was classic. Now that it’s on vinyl, Chris says it can have its proper name back. Which makes so much more sense. I fully understand the Euphoric Mourning, tho I confess, I adore euphoric mornings as well. A different venue would have suited this concert better. Music halls are a little stuffy for certain artists and certain fans. I felt everyone there was slightly encumbered by the setting of the Jubilee, much like how the Winspear is. But the acoustics are phenomenal. So…it’s a toss up.
Concert #2: Sting & Peter Gabriel
First off, confession. I knew nothing by Peter Gabriel other than the chart toppers from the what, eighties? I’d never much been a fan. I was going to see Sting. That being said, THEY, blew it out of the water. What an enjoyable concert. Peter is quirky and engaging, kind of awkward and yet this is what makes him such an pleasure to watch. His back up singer—ridiculous! She was beyond gorgeous to listen to. Sting is classic. He performs, heart & soul. The whole premise was a battle of the bands sort of thing. It ended up being one of my most favourite concerts ever, which since I didn’t know half the songs, is surprising. Roxanne,( which was one of my least favourite Sting songs until now) set the whole place on fire. A really beautiful collaborative version. Hearing Fragile live, well, on cue, I bawled. Like a baby.
Concert #3: Later this week: The Tragically Hip
This one, third row, on the floor. Kinda crazy. We had the honour of seeing them a year and a half ago, before Gord was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. It was a fabulous concert. This time, we have to see him and support him one last time, and in return, he is supporting us. My husband’s uncle is in hospice winding down his battle with this same cancer. We know the sad slow seep of a loved one from who they are to death. It’s been an emotional few weeks since he enter hospice, one that has left us holding each other in quiet hallways, grieving in each other’s arms, before the loved one has yet slipped to sleep. It is ironic, that dying draws the living closer. But I feel blessed to have been allowed into this turbulent and emotional time with my husband’s family. They are truly my family. That I can comfort his aunt, cousins, and others and cry with them as well—these are special human moments that need to be respected, honoured & treasured as wounds open and heal in a agonizing cycle as we watch the precious ones of our lives pass. So, we are going to Gord’s final show in our city, mindful and knowing, of this future that awaits. It hurts. As life so often does. But I think, I will not be wearing heels.
How can one mosh to New Orleans is Sinking in heels?